


My body is the journal and my tattoos are the story

by fandomstakeoveryourlife



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Simon Lewis has ADHD, Tattooed Raphael Santiago, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomstakeoveryourlife/pseuds/fandomstakeoveryourlife
Summary: They had talked about the meanings of some of his tattoos, but that had been early on their relationship, when they used to make out for hours and explore the expanses of each other's skin. Some had just been too private to talk about at the time, and others they'd simply gotten too occupied to get around to discussing.
Relationships: Lily Chen & Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago
Kudos: 35





	My body is the journal and my tattoos are the story

If you didn't know Raphael and Simon and passed them on the street, you'd probably observe their dynamic and the way they held themselves, before coming to the conclusion that Simon was the cuddlebug in the relationship and Raphael was the stoic one who didn't have any time for that kind of crap. And yet, in reality, cuddling was a rare thing, because actually, the cuddle ethics were the other way around. Raphael was one of those guys you could describe a boiled egg: hard on the outside but around the right people he cracked open to reveal a warm gooey centre. It was the biggest cliché, but who said clichés couldn't be accurate. Simon, on the other hand, was just too _fidgety;_ Raphael didn't know if it was because of his ADHD or just because he wasn't a person who liked to meaninglessly sit still. That wasn't to say Simon _couldn't_ sit still, because Raphael had seen him remain curled up at one end of the sofa, stiff as a carved marble statute, through many a Star Wars - or other equally nerdy film - for hours on end. But on occasion, Raphael could somehow manage to convince Simon to lie quietly with him, usually when his head was in a whirl and he just needed the weight of another body to remind him that he did indeed exist.

Now was one of those such times; it was relatively early - for the weekend, at least - and they were still in bed. Thoughts had been whirring around in Raphael's head like a roulette wheel for what'd felt like hours, slowly picking holes in the logic of his mind. He hadn't even realised Simon was awake until he'd suddenly noticed his breathing had changed: no longer the deepened lengthy breaths of dreamless heavy sleep, but the shorter airier inhales and exhales of entry into wakefulness. Wondering how long Simon had been awake he'd been wrapt in his thoughts, Raphael brought a hand up to card his fingers through the already-tussled dark locks of Simon's hair, half knotting them into the strands. Pressed into his side, Simon sighed softly, contently, breathing heat across the Raphael's exposed skin.

As they lay there in silence, only the delicate push and pull of each shared breath disturbed the air, dancing slightly out of sync. Despite the laxness of his muscles, Raphael still felt tense with anticipation, awaiting the first tell-tale twitches of his boyfriend's limbs. Just as the tightness began to unknot itself from his mind, he felt Simon began to shift uncomfortably beside him. He sighed internally - not that he was ungrateful, but cuddling, just for a bit, once in a while, would be nice. 

Simon pawed his way up the mattress, heaving himself up onto his forearms, then draping his form half over Raphael, pooling onto his skin and resting his chin just below the swell of Raphael's pectorals. His eyes were still puffy and sleep-clouded, his unfairly long eyelashes fanning out like a peacock's tail against the pallor of his skin. 

"Morning, Baby." Raphael mused, his fingertips whispering up Simon's side to tangle their way back into the unruly bedhead he was now supporting. 

A pitiful half-hearted whine escaped Simon's lips. "Do we have anything to get up for?" Raphael ignored the coil of heat that immediately began to stir in the pit of his stomach at the roughened edge to his boyfriend's voice, and huffed out a laugh.

"Not at all." Simon uttered a quiet noise of celebration in response and tipped his head to the side until his ear was pressed against Raphael's flesh. For a long while they remained like that, with the older man combing his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, his attention far away, lost in the maze of his own thoughts. 

Eventually, it was Simon who cut through the stillness; he had been dancing across Raphael's body with the calloused tips of his fingers, skating around ribs and muscle and now tracing the lines of one of many inked tattoos that wove their way over the Mexican man's toned body. 

"Rapha."

"Mm?" 

"What's the meaning behind this one?" Raphael blinked his way out of subconsciousness and back to the present, where his boyfriend was eyeing one of the inky illustrations strewn across his ribs. It was a flower - a lily, to be precise - lined and shaded in black, the heads and leafy stems curving in an arc up his side. A soft smile brushed his lips.

"It was for a friend." He paused as memories raced through his head. "Lily. It was for Lily." 

A frown cinched Simon's brow. "Lily? You mean like, scary Lily? Scary Lily who would definitely cut off my balls and nail them to my car if I fucked up. That Lily?"

Raphael laughed loudly. "Yes, Osito, that Lily. We've been friends a long time, her and I, and we have been through a lot - together and individually." He paused and wet his lips. "She was my strength at times when I had none of my own." 

The younger man traced the curve of the shadowy flower stem with his index finger. "What did she think when you got it?"

"She was not best pleased, as I'm sure you can guess." Simon snorted. "But, eventually she saw the beauty in it. Though," he frowned, "I'm pretty sure she still thinks I'm an idiota for getting it."

Simon laughed breathily, glancing up at his boyfriend before returning his gaze to the shapes he was creating. Raphael exhaled gently and watched the movements of the male sprawled across his torso; Lily had given him a blackeye for the permanent illustration that rose and fell in motion with the curvature of his ribcage, not to mention the silent treatment that had lasted twice as long as the bruise had. He'd known she'd be upset to some degree, but her reaction had been somewhat of a shock, to the point where he'd started to regret his attempt at honouring his best friend. That was, until she'd appeared at his apartment door, gasping three plastic bags of takeout; they'd developed this tradition for whenever one of them was having a shitty week, wherein they'd order food from their personal ethnic backgrounds and share it together, and apparently this disagreement qualified as just such an occasion. Even once Lily had given him a chance to explain himself, she didn't really stop hating it for a while, and he was still only half convinced of that purely because there was a point when she stopped glaring at the tattoo every time she caught sight of it. 

A sudden rush of warm air hit his neck and Raphael suppressed the urge to flinch - somehow he'd failed to notice Simon inching further up his side, until his face was pressed almost into the crook of Raphael's neck, the tip of his index finger running fluidly along the lines of another tattoo etched into his boyfriend's skin in the hollow beneath his collarbone. Raphael made a half-hearted disapproval, though the only thing he really minded was the bony point of Simon's elbow, digging into the flesh of his side. Seeming to understand the older man's non-verbal complaint, Simon dropped down to lie on his stomach, his arm tucked beneath him. 

"This one for your mom?" His tone was careful - cautious - as if he wasn't sure if this was forbidden territory or not. 

"Kind of." Raphael fell silent and Simon waited wordlessly, letting his boyfriend speak when he was ready.

Raphael took a breath. "I got it to honour the way she raised me and my brothers: with faith and as a single parent." He paused to wet his lips. "Even though Mama was an accepting person, we were still taught that homosexuality was a sin - though I guess that was more from the church than her. When I began to have an interest in boys, I hated myself; I was convinced she would feel the same because she was such a devote Catholic and who would want a gay son?" He stopped abruptly and took a ragged breath, sudden emotion choking him voiceless. Simon was watching him with understanding-clouded eyes; he'd had his fair share of religion related homophobia, only his parent hadn't turned out to be as progressive as Raphael's, or at least not to start with.

"I hid it from her for years, but I could never quite accept myself - not until I'd told her." Raphael shook his head and laughed quietly. "Dios. Who knows what I would've done if she hadn't reacted the way she did."

"And how did she react?" 

A smile twitched at the corners of Raphael's lips. "After I'd finished giving some long convoluted apology speech, she just tutted and cuffed my ear, saying I was an _idiota_ and that I'd always be her son, whether the church 'approved' of homosexuals or not. I'd stopped going to church at that point because Mama had a rule that attending was compulsory until you were 18, but I felt the need to honour the religion anyway."

"Beautiful." Simon breathed and Raphael wasn't sure if he meant the inked design or the story behind it. 

Simon was up on his elbows again, but lying parallel to Raphael's form this time, scanning across the other artworks that bruised his flesh. They had talked about the meanings of some of his tattoos, but that had been early on their relationship, when they used to make out for hours and explore the expanses of each other's skin - not that they didn't do that anymore, however there was more of a finale to that kind of activity that they hadn't progressed to quite yet in the beginning. And then there had been occasional insomnia periods that Simon had when he got stressed, where he'd toss and turn and wake Raphael up to occupy his mind until he drifted off mid sentence. 

Tilting his head like an inquisitive puppy, Simon thumbed a string of text that snaked along the sensitive inside of Raphael's right bicep. 

"Bet this one hurt." 

Raphael snorted. "It did, like a _bitch_." 

"At least it's not massively intricate." He passed his thumb over words again. "What's it say?"

"Al mal tiempo, buena cara. To bad times, a good face. In other words, put on a good face in the bad times." A delicate smile ghosted across his lips. "One of Mama's favourite sayings; she was always about trying to stay positive through the difficult times. Got this one when I was in my first year of college, when I'd moved up to New York. Dios, that feels like so long ago."

Simon rolled his eyes. "Gah, you old man." He teased, sticking his tongue out childishly when Raphael scowled at him. 

Grasping his boyfriend's muscular arm, Simon rotated it around, tucking the Spanish words out of sight and bringing an intensely intricate tattoo into full view. They'd never discussed that tattoo, solely because of its self-evident meaning. It was a Day of The Dead illustration, featuring a four skulls, with the main focus being a sizeable heavily decorated one at the top of Raphael's shoulder. The other skulls trailed down his arm and ending on his bicep, swimming in hyper-realistic roses and curling tendrils of thorny stems. Entirely in black, it's dramatically shaded depth was eye-catching to anyone and everyone. 

"When did you get this one?"

"Ah yes, a personal favourite." Raphael smirked. "I had started planning this one when I was a kid, maybe fifteen? The Catholic church says tattoos are a sin, but I figured I was already going to hell for having gay thoughts, so why not go down a champion? Would've certainly horrified our local Priest beyond belief."

Simon laughed loudly and genuinely, throwing his head back.

"I began saving as soon as I got a job - about half of my wage went on whatever expenses Mama couldn't quite make that month, but the other half went straight into my tattoo fund. Had to get it done in stages, for healing purposes and funding: the first linework was done pretty much as soon as I turned eighteen." 

Sitting up, Simon rested on his heels, pushing the covers back with him as he did so, leaving Raphael laying on his back and looking up at him, revealed, open, vulnerable. The younger man's eyes mapped Raphael's body, not really seeing it physically, but instead seeing all the stories and emotions permanently laid out in bruising shadowy tones of ink. Many of the stories he knew by now, but some were still a mystery. His focus was pulled to a floral design on the other man's left hip, stretching the breadth of skin from the ridge of Raphael's hip bone to half way down the thickened muscle of his thigh. It was one of the few of Raphael's tattoos that featured colour; heads of violets and lily of the valley blossomed in various shades of purple along the skin, intertwined with dark stems and black details.

Simon shifted to straddle his boyfriend's thighs, curving over to press kisses down his hip and along the length of Raphael's most recent tattoo. At one point, it had been one of his favourite spots to suck love bites, but now it felt like he was ruining a piece of art to do such a thing so he nipped the skin next to it instead, earning a slightly surprised breathy noise from the man under him.

"I think I can tell which one is your favourite." Simon grinned up at him cheekily. "You know, I was hoping for a lazy morning this morning, but you might have just changed my mind, mi amado." 

The grin playing on Simon's lips widened and he dipped down again, pressing more kisses amongst the inky flowers that danced about his boyfriend's hip.


End file.
